Clinging to Just One More Day
by Monroe Kay
Summary: <html><head></head>Klaus Mikaelson has killed a few slayers in his day, and Buffy wants to know how. Klaus represents everything she hates, so why can't she fully hate him? When Buffy's mom gets sick, she needs him. She doesn't want to need Klaus, but her mother is more important. She asks him to use his blood to cure her. It works, but will it last?</html>
1. Chapter 1

**Summary **

Klaus Mikaelson has killed a few slayers in his day, and Buffy wants to know how. Klaus represents everything she hates, so why can't she fully hate him?  
>When Buffy's mom gets sick, she needs him. She doesn't want to need Klaus, but her mother is more important. She asks him to use his blood to cure her. It works, but will it last?<p>

_Set Season 5 Btvs; Buffy, lost what to do after the defeat of Adam has turned her eyes on the myth of Klaus Mikaelson. Said to be the Original Vampire. But more than that, the killer of a few vampire Slayers. Buffy wants to know more about her past, her weakness'. So she travels to New Orleans to track down the infamous Klaus. She wants answers. But also to do what no slayer has ever been able to do. Kill the monster that started it all.  
>Set post series TO; Hayley is not pregnant but Klaus has moved back to New Orleans in hope of taking back what was once his. <em>

* * *

><p>The sights of the quarter were more than could fill the eye. The air was hot, almost stifling so. After all it was early September, which is still summer for New Orleans. Buffy's boots made a <em>clomp clomp<em> sound on the sidewalk. She was use to Indian summers, she was from California. Her bag swung over her shoulder. To most it would be a burden, packed to the brim with weapons and shoes. But she barely noticed it weight as she wandered around the infamous French Quarter. All she had to go on was the little information Giles' resources were able to tell her. She knew that infamous vampire had recently settled in the French Quarter after what seemed to be a remarkable body count in some small backwoods Virginia Town. He wasn't exactly mister lay low from what Buffy had heard.

Giles thought she was reckless to seek out the threat that had been written about with such fear. But when Buffy wanted answers, well let's just say that nothing stood in her way. The only problem was, even with the little research they were able to get, she had no idea what this big bad looked like. She was picturing someone tall, menacing, and bulky. But she also knew that big bad's came in every which size. For heavens sake's, look at the Mayor. He seemed like a wholesome family man when he wasn't transforming into something straight out of those horrible Predator movies.

But she did have some lead, or kind of lead. Okay, she had a tiny inkling of where something may possibly kind of go down. But it was more than anything else. Besides, she wasn't research Gal anyways. She was more of a stake first and ask questions later kind of Slayer. Something the Council wasn't all too happy about. They would probably be shaking in their tea-filled houses or whatever those Brits did if they had any idea what she was about to do. But she wanted answers, and they couldn't give them to her. Soon her eyes landed on their prize. Giles had told her that there was rumor of a powerful coven of witches in New Orleans. Buffy figured that was the place to start. After all, from what she heard, anyone with power was a target for his jealous vampire-ness. She heard that one of the witches worked at this bar. Sophie something-french was her name. So without hesitation, Buffy pushed open the heavy and old oak door to the bar.

The place was pretty standard for a bar. Beer, liquor, sqeaky stools. With a few more _clomp clomps _of her boots she sat at the end of the bar. Technically she wasn't even old enough to be drinking, not that that was really what she came here to do. But the ever trust worthy Xander had given her an ID for the journey. It had taken her a long time to convince Xander that he didn't need to accompany her on her soul-seeking Slayer-esqe mission. She was pretty sure she had had hurt his Xander-shaped feelings in the process. But this was something she had to do without him, without Giles, without any one. So for tonight she would be Telulla Saunders. She could punch Xander in his cute little head for his idea of a joke. Freakin' Tellula. What was she, a forty year old former beauty queen turned alcoholic from Kentucky? But it would do for now.

Buffy had her eye on the bartender. She could only get Sophie Bonjor-whatever's name from a long list of contacts. She wasn't in the know enough for her work schedule but she was hoping that she could be in some luck today. The girl behind the bar had dark, dirty blonde like hair, and slightly panicked way of moving. Buffy waited quietly for the lady to make her way towards Buffy's end of the bar. While waiting, Buffy tried to think of what the next step would be. Obviously she had to find this Niklaus Mikaelson. That was her ultimate goal here, well kinda. Giles warned her that she may not be able to get any answers out of him. She knew he was worried she would end up like the Slayer's before her. It was written in a journal of some old dead guy who had the writing of a four year old who had too much kiddie crack pixie sticks that a wooden stake wouldn't kill Niklaus or his family. So she would just have to wing it if it came to blows. Which is always did the end.

Finally the sweet faced bartender had noticed Buffy. In a slightly out of breath voice, she asked "What can I get you?" Buffy pushed her bag off of the bar and on to the empty seat next to her. "Actually, I was looking for someone called Sophie. I was told she worked here." Buffy studied the girl's facial expression as she talked. She could tell the moment she said the name that this woman was not Sophie witchy-girl. But that didn't mean that she didn't know her.

"Sophie called out today, hence me having to open the bar by myself. And from the looks of it this morning, she didn't attempt to clean up after her self last night either. I'm Cammi, by the way." The woman sighed, lines appearing in her forehead. _Strike out number one, Buffy _She thought to herself. She opened her mouth to ask the woman when Sophie was expected to be in next, or where Buffy could find her, but she was interrupted. A few rowdy men at the other end of the bar's argument drown out anything else, and a glass shattered on the ground. The noise broke all conversation except that of the bitter old men's argument. Cammi quickly moved towards them, already trying to diffuse the problem.

Buffy sighed, trying to figure out what the next step on this foggy journey would be. And that was when she felt someone sitting down next to her. "I would offer to buy you a drink, love. But it seems like our lady of alcohol is otherwise preoccupied." The voice had a thick British accent, and had control that many people's voices lacked. Buffy turned to take in the man. She did not have time for some creep to hit on her. She was on a mission. Plus, random bar pickup. Ick factor much? But she took in his sandy hair, his deep eyes, and of course a smirk that clearly stated 'Everyone melts in my hand, why should you be any different'. Ugh, cockiness was not something Buffy took well too. She had enough Cordelia in her three years of Sunnydale high to really stand anymore. And Miss May Queen Cordy would have been swooning in her paid for by Daddy's designer clothes if she had been in front of this man.

Buffy opened her mouth to spurn his advances before they came. But her words dropped when she watched him reach across the bar for a bottle and two glasses. As he grabbed one of the glasses, the fragile pint glass next to it swayed. It careened off the edge of the black mat. But before it could travel very far, the man caught it easily in his hand. Too easily. _Vampire. _Buffy's instincts screamed. Maybe the trip wasn't going to be a complete waste after all. If she could get the vampire on it's own, she may be able to get some information on Niklaus. He eyes scanned for some form of daylight jewelry as he smirked at her. Obviously she was suppose to be impressed. While that may have been the part he wanted her to play, Buffy was never one for the rules.

"Is this how you act at every bar? Just take a bottle and hope the bartender has had one too many to notice you have a bottle of Angel's Envy in front of you?" Buffy quipped. Hmm, she couldn't spot any daylight jewelry, but it had to be somewhere. After all, the bar was filled with sunlight that would have been burning him otherwise. She turned her body towards him, crossing her legs as her black skirt rode up a bit. A little flirting can get you far with vamp, something her evil-not-twin other half had taught her. Buffy wasn't one for the femme fetale approach, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head. Camille won't miss this anyways." He threw a small wink her direction. Barf. Ugh, if this had been any other situation her fist would be half way to his jaw by now. But instead she forced herself to smile.

"Well if you insist on partaking in petty theft right in front of me, I guess i'll have to indulge." She quipped, pushing one of the glasses towards him. "Although drinking before three in the afternoon feels a little too trampy to me. Or desperate alcoholic. Can't decide which." But the vampire just smiled as he poured two decent size drinks in the tumblers. Buffy wasn't a big drinker. 'Specially since the whole Buffy gets drunk and then becomes a near primate thing. Let's just say when your the Slayer, there is more that can happen then waking up with a hangover the size of Texas.

"Cheers, love." Her murmured as they clinked glasses. Buffy tried not to grimace as the smoky and harsh liquid slid down her throat.

"So really though, what are you doing at a bar during peak office hours?" She brushed back a piece of hair, trying to appear flirty. It was easy, after all, this type of guy was just expecting for everyone to fall at his feet. Again, yuck.

"I could ask you the same thing. Let me guess. Your running from your estranged husband because you took off with fifty quid of his savings?" The vampire had a playful look on his face as he arched an eye brow. "Whatever it is, your on the run. I can sense that, darling. You have rebellion just wafting off of you."

Double yuck. Did he think that the British accent was a gateway to acting like Colin Farrel or whatever that British guy from Love, Actually was? The whole I'm-british-and-poetic-shag-me-now thing was sooo over played. Buffy downed the rest of her drink, this time not succeeding in keeping the grimace off her face. "How about we exchange names before we exchange oh-so-tragic movie of the week life stories, Prince Harry."

The man let out a chuckle that seemed to bounce off the glasses and back to them. "How rude of me. Klaus. Klaus Mikaelson."

**Jackpot.**

* * *

><p>Hope you guys enjoyed it. It's just the first chapter and I have a lot more planned for Buffy and the New Orleans crew. This was more setting up Buffy and Klaus meeting and the whys and what not.<p>

Please let me know any feedback and what not you have, and hopefully I can update really soon. Hoping to get another, longer chapter out tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

She had to admit it was easier than she would have thought. While she struck out on the witchy front, it seems that the powers that be or whatever that crap was steered her in a much better direction. She looked at the infamous vampire, really looked at him this time. She could see it now, he wasn't some drunk looking for company on a lonely night, and he wasn't some vampire lackey she could push around in an alley. His eyes were dark, not just in color but in, well she didn't know how to put it. But she could see power in the way he held himself, the hallow cheek bones, the stature, the tone in his voice. She was wrong in her vision of a big, dark, broody broody-ness thing, as she knew she would be.

Shit, it clicked in her head. While her obvious goal was to find this big bad vampire, she hadn't expected to so soon. She didn't know where to go from here. That was Buffy for you, she could only see the next step, she never turned on her brights. Boy would they be needed now. To hide her sudden uncomfortableness, and nervousness, she swished the little remaining liquid around in her glass. "Klaus, damn, I thought I got the bad end of the name game. Your parents must have really wanted you to be miserable." She commented as he tipped the bottle of amber liquid to refill the glasses. She had to be careful; she could already feel the whiskey buzzing around in her system a bit. Now that she knew that she was in the presence of possibly the most notable killer and the only vampire to kill three slayers, well she would have to have her wits about her. Too bad at this moment it seemed that she may have left her wits at home.

The vampire let out a chuckle, his voice reminding her of a hyena. But a psychotic cat like thing seemed like a new born kitten compared to what little she knew of the monster in front of her. "Hit the nail on the head there, love. Miserable doesn't begin to cover what my dear father wanted for me." His voice was smooth, she would admit. It had a bitter melody to it that some might find intoxicating. But she knew better than that. While she had seen that fangs didn't necessarily mean psychotic and demented, the case in point being Angel. But she knew the man in front of her might very well be the defination of a monster. The things he had done, the bottom of Buffy's stomach started to churn. 

Ugh, even with knowing who he was now, she couldn't help but be both impressed and repulsed by the size of his ego. Did he really think that some pretty blonde girl sitting at the end of the bar would be so moved by his sob story of unloving parents that she would hop into bed with him. _and get her throat ripped out in the process_. Buffy thought bitterly. Giles couldn't dig up much on the origin of The Original Vampires, so Buffy was actually intrigued by his talk of parents. Sure, there was a more than huge chance that this was a lie in his ploy to gain his next pretty little victim. But still, the part of her brain that has a little Giles like puppet in it was eager to hear more. Giles knew of Klaus, the strongest, the most ruthless, and the most dangerous of the family. Or he knew what little he could dig up, mostly stories of his victims. There were snippets on bits of his family here and there. They knew he had a brother who was very fond of violence and torture, the icky gory kind that made Buffy squicky. He had a sister too, although not much could be fond of her. She was described as equally beautiful and deadly. The words Brothers or Siblings could be found in the old journals, leaving Giles to believe that Niklaus may have more family that was not recorded.

Focusing back on the problem at hand, the one where she was a lamb in a lion's dam with no plan what so ever. Or okay, a lamb with a killer right hook that may come in handy, but still, she was pretty much in the dark at this point. She shook out of her thoughts at the sound of his smooth, dark voice that gave her shivers, and not the good kind. But she didn't catch the words they were forming.

"All I got out of that was horrid hand basket, and I gotta say, I'm not sure I want to know the full sentence." She joked, trying to keep her laugh from sounding too forced. Klaus smiled at her, a half smile. He had dimples, she just noticed. It seemed kind of ironic that the most vicious vampire of all time would have something as seemingly innocent as dimples.

"I simply asked what horrid name your mother picked out of this supposed name basket." Smooth as glass, his eyes swept over her. She didn't like the look in his eyes. The hair on the back of her neck rose, a warning her body was sending her to get the hell out of there and as far away from the beast in front of her as she could. But she stayed; it was kind of her thing. Saving people, throwing herself in the hell with the monsters, it was kinda part of the gig.

"Anne" Buffy stated, knowing better than to use her real name. That was the thing about being a slayer with a name that she was almost sure that nobody in the freakin' world had ever heard of. She was easy to trace. While she may not have an ego the size of California like the man sitting next to her, she did realize that some may have heard of a slayer named Buffy, and she wasn't going to take that risk. She wished her mother had named her something normal, like Samantha or Britney. But nope, her mother decided she wasn't to be unique and she got landed with the 'not really a name' name of Buffy. So instead she went by her middle name, something she did during her little run away trip to Los Angeles, after well, she didn't want to think about that.

With the smile on his face that only stated amusement, she realized her error. Trying to cover up her nerves earlier, she made a statement that would seem to say she had an unusual name along with his. But it was something that could be easily corrected. "It's no Klaus, which by the way sounds like your mom was one of those Christmas fanatics and wanted her own personal Santa Claus." Buffy's words were blending together, as they tended to do at times. "But it's just so freakin' boring." She ended with an exasperated sigh. Her fake self seemed to have the opposite wishes as her real self when it came to names, but it was an easy way to cover her blunder.

Klaus reached across the space between them, his fingertips gently brushing the hallow of her cheeks. She tried to keep from flinching, thinking of all the damage those hands had done. She tried to mold her expression into something resembling a teenager staring at whatever mindless boy band happened to be the new thing lately, but she wasn't sure if she conveyed it as well as she would have liked. "It's beautiful, in Angelo-saxon terms it mean w-" But Buffy wouldn't find out what her pseudo slash middle name meant, because it seemed the earlier commotion at the bar was taking a turn for the verse. Her attention wavered as she heard a crash of a bar stool on to the floor. The drunken man seemed to be in a fit about something or another. His angry voice carried down the bar, and as Buffy saw him reach for the discarded stool, she knew that it was time someone stepped in. Camille, the blonde bartender that had been talking to Buffy earlier seemed to be failing at calming the men down. Buffy sped towards the end of the bar, reflexes kicking in as she saw the man raise the metal stool to strike the other man. As he swung down, Buffy's hand grasps the metal just seconds before it would have collided with the other drunken man's skull. Her grip was tight around the metal, as she turned to the one holding it.

"Hey, now I don't think the whole hitting people with bar stool is exactly bar etiquette or whatever. Did anyone ever tell you that the drunk and violent thing, not exactly a huge turn on. So how about you put the stool down, pay your check, and pass out somewhere warm and not here." Her voice was commanding, but not entirely raised. In all honesty, it had the same kind of power and control that was behind Klaus'. She didn't realize that his eyes were on her throughout the whole interaction, never leaving the short blonde as he thoughtfully sipped on his whiskey.

The man angrily threw down some money on the bar, muttering obscenities about the man that was next to him. As he turned to leave, he turned to Buffy. "If we weren't surrounded by witnesses missy, you best believe that he wouldn't be the only one getting a be-" Before Buffy could even attempt to listen to the end of his sentence, Klaus was next to her, his hand clenching the arm of the man. It wasn't as fast as he could be, she knew that. But there was definitely some vampire super speed stuff behind the quickness that landed him between Buffy and the bitter man. 

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you." Klaus' voice had turned menacing, and finally she glimpsed a little bit of the monster that he was rumored to be. He didn't need to compel the man, although he was more than capable of it. The threat in his tone and the venom in his eyes was enough for the man to start struggling out of Klaus' grip. For a second Buffy thought he wasn't going to let the man go. And quite honestly, Buffy wasn't in the mood for a show down right here. The poor bartender looked frazzled and frightened enough.

But after a moment, Klaus released his grip. The man scurried out of the bar faster than she would have thought possible. "I apologize for his rudeness, Anne was it?" There was teasing in his eyes, she knew he did not forget her fake name that quickly. "This place tends to attract the, well let's just say more of a ruffian crowd, even in the daylight hours." Buffy glanced around, watching Camille hurrying to clean up the spilled drinks and broken glass. Klaus glanced at Buffy's full travelling bag. "Well Anne, whatever you're running away from, love, you can't leave without seeing the infamous gardens in the quarter. They are quite exquisite. There is a beautiful one not too far from here, if you would like to enjoy it with me." Buffy hesitated. She knew that this was her chance, possibly the best chance she would have to get the vampire on his own. But something was making her hesitate, call it slayer intuition, or call it the fact that his royal vampire-ness gave her the wiggings on top of wiggins. But she knew that it was her duty to keep this interaction with him going for as long as she could. Besides she was a bit curious what she could get out of him, while posing as the quick witted but seemingly innocent blonde.

"Well I didn't exactly come here to look at flowers. I mean, flowers are flowers. Unless they grew legs and do the polka around the quarter, I really don't think I'll be that amused. But I could use some air that's not you know, stale bar air that you could possibly get a buzz off of just breathing." While she was talking, she gathered her hair into a pony tail, but let it back down without tying it, a nervous habit that she had. "Lemme just use the restroom real quick."

She left him smiling at her back, and she raced off into the small wooden door with a stick figure wearing a skirt. Who decided that bathroom signs should be in stick figures. Why not just write Ladies, or you know something else. Luckily the bathroom was one of the single ones, which meant that no one was there as she burst through the door. She quickly locked it, and turned towards the mirror.

Her complexion was flushed, and her pupils were slightly dilated. What the hell was she doing, going to tour the French Quarter with the man she came here to hunt? Well to get answers out of, and then hunt. You're the slayer, she told herself. Your Buffy, you've faced worse than this. Remember that icky demon with the tentacle eggs, yep that was worse. This is a walk in the park compared to that. With way less ick factor. The chances of coming out of this one covered in something she'd sooner not label were far better. Plus it wouldn't mean that she would go through her mom's whole shampoo collection. She splashed some water on her face, and checked the stake hidden in her boot. Check. You got this Buff. It's just a little recon, that's it. But why did he make her feel like she was about to fall through the ice?

Buffy stepped back into the bar, looking hopefully more composed. "So how about them flowers. C'mon, show me what you got. Maybe I'll be eating my polka-dancing words." She announced as they walked out the door. The quarter was bustling, tourist taking pictures of the stunning buildings. Meanwhile vendors on the street were peddling everything from haunted tour guides to "mystical" pinwheels. It was a lot to take in at once, but Klaus turned down a street with significantly less tourists. He pointed at a building to her left. "That is one of the few buildings to survive the fire. It said that the ashes of the fire that destroyed the city made the plants stronger. That they rose from the ashes a new and gave the city hope." His voice was intoxicating, but she tried to clear it from her mind as they turned into the secluded garden. Despite her quips about it, the place was truly beautiful. Everywhere she turned, there were flowers of bright colors. Some as tall as her, although that wasn't so hard to do. Some were small, growing in clumps that looked like something out of an old painting. She was fascinated by it, the world suddenly so bright, she felt like she was in some alternate dimension. She was so captivated the beauty, that she didn't see coming what she should always be prepared for.

In a split second, her back was slammed against the brick wall, a painful jolt sent throughout her body. Damn it, never drop your guard, she scolded herself. His face was inches away from hers; she could practically feel the patchy scruff on his chin. But his eyes were more amused than threatening.

His voice came out melodic, "Darling, do you think a Slayer could wander in to my city, my home, and I would not be aware of it?" His eyes locked on hers, and she found she couldn't look away. His hands were locked on to her wrist, and his body holding hers against the brick wall of the garden. "Slayer, you know, I've met quite a few of your _relatives_." He smiled, a wide and maddening smile, and she knew it was a taunt.

With the mention of the Slayers he has killed, something clicked back into Buffy's mind. Her instincts were shoved to the forefront of her mind. After a few quick second of analyzing her position, she swiftly brought her knee up, sinking it into his stomach. It wouldn't put him off for long, but it would be enough that he wouldn't have the upper hand anymore. She knew he was strong, stronger than most vampires. But she would have to see for herself how much his strength rivaled her own.

"Three of them, right? Yeah, let's just say I will learn from their mistakes." She spat out. "Also, the garden thing, can you be more freakin' cliché?" Her voice was almost exasperated. She held her stance, her legs locked as he made his way back to his feet. Damn, he was fast. He hardly looked phased, and that wasn't good for her.

But he didn't strike. Instead that infuriating smile stayed on his face. "I must say, you have a fire in you that your ancestors lacked. Not that it mattered much after I tore out their throats." His voice was taunting, and anger bubbled up inside of her. How could she have forgotten, even for a moment, what a monster he was?

She would have killed him right there, if it wasn't for the fact that she didn't know how to, yet. But she needed something from him first. She needed to know how he bagged the slayers, she needed to know why it seemed like his family was so deep rooted in the Slayer lore.

She still kept her fighting stance, "I'm a lot of things the other Slayers weren't. And you're not going to kill me. At least not know." He hadn't made a move yet, and she knew that within a second he could be behind her to snap her neck, not that she wouldn't get out of it. She hadn't gotten this far without picking up a few moves along the way.

"Correct, Slayer. I'm not going to kill you, today. But I can't just have a Slayer in my city. See, I have built myself a kingdom here. A little Slayer isn't going to make it come crumbling down." His voice now had a hint of a threat behind the amused smile. Before she could even blink, she was behind her again. His hand was on her neck. She knew just as she did before that he wouldn't kill her, although she couldn't say how she knew that. If he were to snap her neck, his hands would be firmly placed on her head. But her neck, he could rip her throat out with his teeth easily.

He bent down, his breath caressing the hollow dip by her clavicle bone. His voice was soft and harsh at the same time, and she didn't even know how that was possible. He sure had the whole sociopathic vampire thing down. Maybe he had the number one medal in space invasion lying on his mantle. But her attention was snapped back to the moment as he spoke, his mouth so close to her skin. "Slayer blood is a real treat, and I would know."

Before he could get any closer, she threw her head back. The opportunity she had been waiting for. Her skull smacked against his, causing her to see little blurred lights in her vision. But she knew it would send her message. "Come near my neck again, and I promise you'll get something a lot more pointy and wooden than a head butt." Her voice was laced with anger, more at herself. Why had she just stood there as he got closer her neck, almost entranced by him? She couldn't admit it, but part of her didn't want to move. Those few moments where his lips were so close to her skin, and his voice blurred her thoughts, she felt a fire run through her body.

Blood started to form from his hip, where her head had hit him. "Hunt in my city, Slayer, and I will end you like I did the others." He wiped the blood on to his hand, and spat on the ground. Their eyes locked for more than few seconds, both seething in pain, anger, and well she didn't know what else. But then he was gone.

Buffy sighed, absent mindedly picking up a bright blood orange flower from where it weaved into the brick wall. She twirled the flower in her hands until it seemed like just a blur. "Cover blown, check. One pissed off Original, check. One thoroughly fucked Buffy, check. Real smooth." She muttered to herself.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys! I ended up getting this chapter up pretty quickly and I'm happy about it! Thank you for all the support and hopefully I can get at least another chapter up this week. Please remember to favorite and review if you like it. Your support keeps me excited to write another chapter and thank you much.

Buffy's arm slammed into the wall, and pain shot through her. But she ignored it as she went back for the attack. The vamp was fast, but clearly a newbie. She noted the lack of a daylight ring. From what she gathered, only those in Klaus' inner circle gained a daylight ring, or Marcel. She had yet to meet the former king of quarter, but she had gotten a bit of info on him before her stake landed in the heart of a few vamps. After her altercation with Klaus, she knew she would need to gather more information before forming whatever the next step was. She was never good with the planning.

She gripped the wood tight in her hand, digging into her palm a bit. Klaus' threat about the Slayer hunting in the quarter had fallen on to deaf ears. After all, she had a job to do. She landed a kick on to the rib cage of the vampire, gaining the upper hand yet again. Her foot landed back on the cement with a loud thunk, before she made another move. Her hands gripped his hard shoulders as she slammed his body into the opposite wall. Quickly she pressed her arm against his throat, pinning him to the surface. Those little veins under his eyes were prominent, although his vamp face really didn't scare her as she knew he hoped it would.

"Little word of advice, feeding in dark alleys, dead giveaway there buddy." She bit out, applying more pressure to his windpipe. She knew it would hurt like hell if she crushed it, but she needed him to form words first. All she got in return was a guttural growl. "Now if you aren't fond of pointy wooden things impaling you, I would tell me what you know of his royal douchebag-ness, Klaus." Her arm let up a bit, just enough for the blood sucker to talk.

"The Original?" He questioned, his voice strained. Buffy heard the rustling of a rat in the alley, but she paid it no mind.

"No the freakin' Santa." She retorted.

"I'm not a fan of the hybrid, but if he could rip your heart out, I'm all game for him." Buffy used the other hand, the one gripping her weapon. She pushed it against his heart, not breaking the skin.

"Make your point, or I'll make mine. See, see what I did there. Point, stake. C'mon, this is some of my best stuff."

But the vampire grimaced in pain. "Mikaelson, I uhh...he's at Marcel's old place. More like a mansion. He took it over. That's all I know. No one has told me anything else." He may live on a pathetic diet of blood, but she could tell that under the pressure of death, he was telling the truth. She heard of the palace like place Marcel use to keep. Of course the Original couldn't just get some hotel room, he had to live like the king he diluted himself into thinking he was. Ego jerk.

In her moment of contemplation, her enemy made his move. He grabbed a fist full of her hair, the only thing he could grab. She let out a cry. Really, hair grabbing. We're they in the second grade. She quickly repositioned herself, driving the stake through the skin and into the heart. His body tensed before it gave out, distorting itself in grey. "Why muse they go for the hair? Ow." She muttered as she rubbed the sore spot on her head. She moved the body into the shadows. It was enough that he wouldn't be noticeable right away. Hiding or not, Klaus would know she was hunting when the vampire croonies stopped showing up for the special secret meetings about if type O or type A was better, or whatever they talked about. She was surprised he hadn't caught on already to be honest.

Well, she had another tiny bit of information to add to the bank of 'what the hell do I do with all of this' in her head. This is what watchers were for. Slayers, well slayed. Give her a sword and she could medieval her way to any baddie, but the research, well there was a reason she chose to do her slaying during the time she was supposed to be in history class. Yawnfest. But she headed out into the busy and night crisp quarter to go back to her hotel and give herself another book-like headache. This time the maps would come out, oh the excitement.

A pain in her neck woke her up. She had once again fallen asleep on a pile of papers and books that smelled like they may have come out of a swamp. She massaged her neck, trying to reduce the pain the crick had caused. Her vision was a little bleary. She had only been asleep two hours, but let's just say she'd take feathers over a book pillow any day of the week. She still hadn't figured out which mansion like house in the quarter would house the hybrid dick himself. Not that she knew the next step after figuring that out. Couldn't the baddies just come with instructions? Like locate mansion C where shown, insert Stake A into Vampire F.

A knock on the door interrupted her little pity party. That was odd. She had been at this sorry excuse for a motel and hadn't even seen so much of a maid. Her guard instantly going up, she clutched a stake in her fist before approaching the door. As she looked through the peep hole, she saw the manager. She sighed as she opened the door. The so called manager was right outta creeper land. Going to the office to pay everyday gave her the wiggins as he made not so passive come ons to her. But it was one of the few places that would accept hard cash. Being a slayer didn't exactly come with a credit card.

As the door opened, she noticed he wasn't wearing his usual smirk. "Anne, some left 'dis for you." He said, handing her a thick off white envelope. It was one of those fancy ones, with heavy paper and little embellished M a shade off on it. She grasped it hesitantly. Who wrote letters now a days? If Giles or Xander wanted to talk to her, well there was a phone in her pocket. She could see Willow trying to be cute by doing the pen pal thing, but the regal like lettering wasn't really her style.

Buffy tore open the letter, unfolding the single, equally heavy paper inside. The writing was done in one of those fancy pens, the writing more like calligraphy than Willow's neatly printed handwriting. 

_Slayer,_

_My warnings seemed to have fallen on deaf ears,_  
><em>I have no doubt that the several caps in my outer circle are at your hand.<em>  
><em>I could almost thank you, a nuance they really wore. Neanderthals that<em>  
><em>were more of a pester than anything.<em>

_But I can't ignore your need to disobey. As a warned you, hunting in_  
><em>my kingdom is something that I will not handle lightly.<em>  
><em>I did not expect anything less from you. After our little altercation in<em>  
><em>the garden, well let's just say a fire like yours isn't put out so easily.<em>  
><em>You have a passion little slayer, beautiful and graceful in your kill.<em>

_I would like to invite you to a little soiree,_  
><em>Thoroughly welcome you to New Orleans, my kingdom at it's finest.<em>  
><em>The little ant of a manager has a divine dress for you,<em>  
><em>it reminded me of your ancestor I had the intense pleasure of<em>  
><em>drinking from ninety years ago. Mary Ann I think her name was.<em>  
><em>I have no doubt it will look more fitting on you, little Slayer.<em>

**_Klaus Mikaelson_**

_Ps,_  
><span><em>no need to thank me for taking care of that intolerable excuse for a man of a manager.<em>  
><span><em>All in good time love.<em>

She dropped the letter, trying to clear her head after reading the last sentence. She heard the thump as the man dropped a package and ran towards the balcony. Her legs pumped as she chased after him, but the letter had distracted her too much. She should have been on her guard the moment she opened it. The boney man through himself off the balcony, her hand grasping air, just missing his foot.

She let out a cry as she heard the sickening sound of bones crunching and a squicky something she'd rather not identify. She was five stories up and had no doubt that the man was dead. She loathed his come ons, but she didn't want him dead. More like less of a sex crazed jackass. Guilt flowed through her. His crime of persistent pervy-ness wasn't one that deserved a compelled suicide mission. If it wasn't for her, he would have been perched in his office, renewing his subscription to busty Asian beauties or whatever porn site he was surfing.

"Damn it!" She swore. She turned away from the now broken shell of a man, her stomach churning. She knew she'd have to call the authorities, but with her record she would have to book it before they came. She hoped his shitty record keeping and her fake name would be enough to cover up the fact that he jumped in front of her room. She had seen a lot of death, but this, this was beyond twisted. It compared to, well she had people die to send her a message before. Angel, or Angelus killed one of her classmates just to send her 'his love'. She was sickened by the thought, guilt weighing her down. She wouldn't let it repeat a third time. She knew she had no choice but to accept his invitation, or there would be a repeat. She couldn't let any more blood be spilled her name. She was a slayer. She was supposed to stop this, not have death laid out at her feet like the man five floors below her. Only she could stop this.

Buffy found herself at another motel, this one a little further away from the quarter. She had called 911, and then gathered what little belongs she had, namely weapons and useless research, before booking it. She looked down at the envelope, only stained with blood metaphorically. Otherwise it was intact except for the now worn creases where she had read and re read it. Nine o'clock, that was when the so called party started. She ran her hands through her hair, distress shaking them slightly. That was an hour away now. Her stomach felt like someone had dropped a brick in it. Guilt and anxiety twisted her insides. Finally she opened the box, and looked at the so called gift that the monster had used a man's life to deliver to her.

Buffy didn't know what to expect when he used the word Soiree, but it wasn't what she walked into. The courtyard of the castle like residence was swarming with bodies. She could feel vampire presence everywhere, but it wasn't just the pointy-teeth kind of people that were there. Humans mingled everywhere, no idea that they were walking talking lunchables for these monsters. But she couldn't see any feeding, and she had a real big fish to batter and fry tonight. The night breeze hit her legs, the dress she wore ended just above the knee. Which was best for her, better for a little ass kicking. It was a pure white, and reminded her of the dresses she once saw in one of the old twenties musicals her mother used as forced mother daughter bonding time. It wasn't exactly Buffy's style. She was much more into the jean and a halter kinda parties. Somehow she knew that Klaus knew this. Everywhere around her, people were dressed in cocktail dressed that shimmered in the hanging lights. It was like living in a disco ball.

She walked aimlessly, trying to avoid the drunken party goers as she searched for the one that gave her the invitation. She was sure he was here, playing some sort of twisted game with her. The music was a _tad_ more classy than the drunken ones who dances to it. It was all classical, like Beethoven or whatever. Not really her scene. She would take some Baby One More Time over some dead violinist any time. It had been at least half an hour of wandering around the giant and slightly cramped court yard, and she was starting to get annoyed.

"Ahh, I see you got the invitation." She heard the voice behind her, her body whipping around fast. He was dressed to the nine, whatever than meant. His suit was impeccable, not a crease found in it, and his dimples made an appearance as what she could only guess now was his trademark smirk. Anger bubbled up inside of her at the sight of him, her stomach churning for the hundredth time that day.

Without any thought to her surroundings, her arm flew up. All she wanted to do was wipe that smug smirk off of his face. But the vampire caught her arm, his grip strong. She let out an angry breath, but that smile never faltered.

"Now, now love. We don't want to be causing a scene. It would be uncouth, to say the least. After all, you are guest in my home." Now her anger had turned to seething and boiling rage. She yanked her arm harshly out of his grasp. No one around seemed to notice the entanglement. But champagne and drunken kisses rules their minds, with nothing more important than if they would be too hungover to come into the office tomorrow weighing on them. None of them knew what it was like to have the weight of the world threaten to break your shoulders. None of them knew that they were in the home of a sociopathic vampire that would gladly tear out their throats just to hear them scream.

"You compelled that guy to throw himself off of a balcony!" She half shouted, her eyes locked on the hybrids. "You really think I'd be as smiley as a happy meal when I came here tonight. This is your idea of fun, of a game." Her voice may not be loud, but the tone spoke in volumes.

"The wanker whose wandering eye traveled a little to close? Oh, he is no loss to the world, little Slayer." No matter what she did, that amused look wouldn't leave his face. She came to New Orleans for answers, but right now she'd like nothing better than to end him. "And I was correct. You look miles better than poor little Mary Ann. She wasn't much of a Slayer to be honest. But boy was she fun to play a little round of cat and mouse with."

The infuriating conversation reminded her again of why she had taken this god forsaken road trip to a vamp infested city. Slayers, three of them. She needed to know how they died, she needed to know why she was supposedly so tied to the twisted man in front of her. His hand reached up, grabbing the strap of her dress, touching the soft material. "Back then, you would have been a treasure, Slayer. Your fire, you could have lit up the town." She didn't know why she didn't flinch at his touch, or yank herself away as his fingers grazed her shoulder. He oozed power and threats, in his every movement. He could play a game, and she knew that getting the answers the questions that burned themselves inside of her wouldn't be as simple to ask. But you gotta start somewhere.

"And how exactly did you kill her, how did you best a slayer?" Her voice was meant to be strong, but it came out soft, as his fingers caressed her shoulder. She shivered before pulling away, swatting his arm away forcefully. "Don't touch me." She bit out.

Instead of at least acting offended, a laugh rang around her. "Oh, she was a fly compared to the others. But it is a neat little story. After all I think I might hold the record on how much of your ancestors blood is on my hands. And let me say, it is delectable. Better than the finest wine. Tearing out her throat is a fond memory." He grabbed her hand, holding his grip tight. "But before we trade battle stories, formalities must be seen darling. And I think a dance would be on order. After all, all the lights and glamor of tonight is for you."

She pulled a face. "So what, you make a guy jump to his bloody and icky death in front of me, and I'm just supposed to swoon at the chance to dance with you. I don't think so." She spat, attempting to yank herself free from him yet again.

"If you want answers, little Slayer, you will play it my way." His voice was melodic, and she wanted to stake him there for the way it made the goose bumps raise on her arms. She didn't even want to think of the why that went along with that.

She huffed. But she let him lead her on to the dance floor, fixing him with a glare that she hoped conveyed everything she felt. Well not everything, but she pushed that thought away and focused on the goal at hand. Get out of the night alive, get some answers, and tell mister formality here that he would meet the pointy end of a stake if he sent one more person to their death, in front of her, or otherwise.

The song was like most of the night, slow, almost, well twinkling was the only word she could think of. Okay, twinkling was a stupid word, maybe other worldly would sound a little less, well tinkerbell-ish. As they stood about a quarter way into the dance floor, still off to the edge and somehow secluded, he placed her hand on his shoulders. She purposely gripped hard, seeing that smile falter for just a moment. "Now now, love. Play nice or else I'll just have to send you home empty handed to all those useless watcher volumes." So he knew, he had been watching her. He knew she was researching him, and more importantly his link to her and the other slayers.

He placed his hands around waist, surprisingly gentle and warm. She tried not to think of his touch and instead focused on the pattern of lights draped around the beams in the courtyard. Her focus was half there though as he started to lead. "Oh, yes. I know all about what those watchers wrote. Quite dull really, compared to what really happened. Of course quite a few of them went the same way as their Slayers."

Buffy's thoughts traveled to Giles. He had been bait too many times for her, and she was glad for the first time that she left him behind in Sunnydale. "But now isn't the time for regaling tales of your pesky ancestors." He whispered, his eyes capturing hers. "I've heard of you, your quite the legend yourself. I saw you hunt these past few weeks. Remarkable really." He went on, but she noticed that his thumb was moving ever so slightly in circles around her waist.

If it hadn't been him holding her she might have let out a delighted sigh at the small but pleasurable motion. She tried to focus back on the matter at hand. Slayers. Death. Vampires. Got it. "You're beautiful while you kill, you know that. Such passion I usually only see in my kind, the art of the kill is lost on most."

"I kill vampires, you kill innocent people, and there is a difference." She remarked as he lead her closer to the edge of the dance floor. "I'm a slayer, you're a sociopath." At her last word, he pulled her body closer to his own. She could feel it pressed against hers, and she lifted her head. He was taller than her, not that that was too hard. At five foot nothing, she didn't look intimidating unless you knew what to look for.

"A kill is a kill, and the passion, the spark that flies off of you when you fight; well it's a thing of beauty, Slayer." He continued. She hadn't realized until now that they were far off the dance floor now, the music more distant. She found herself in an alcove of sorts, his body still leading hers. "And no one is innocent." He muttered, his head inclined towards hers. He brushed the hair away from her neck, tracing the bones underneath the soft skin. "Every desire. Every need. Every thought you try to push back. Innocence is a fairytale, love." His hand found a piece of hair, twisting around her finger. Her instincts were all screaming to run, to move, but she stayed put. She couldn't say why she stayed, or why she suppressed a shiver as his other hand trailed up her back. "You came from darkness, and I can see in you. It's enthralling."

His words caught her attention, snapping her out of her kind of trance. _**Came from darkness.**_ She pushed him a way, breaking the contact between them. "You had your dance, now it's my turn. What do you mean I came from darkness?"

The smug look on his face drove her crazy, possibly in more ways than she cared to admit. Until another unexpected voice floated between them with sternness and authority. "Niklaus, did you bring a Slayer into our house? Do you ever learn, brother?"


End file.
